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“The town?”
“And the Ajello Grove,” he replies with a grin. “Vinny’s probably heading off to speak with his family.”
Chapter 11
“Mama,” I say, gripping her shoulders as she continues to buzz around, “we’re fine.”
“I don’t see you for fifteen years and then you suddenly show up on my doorstep and all you can say is you’re fine,” Mama says, placing her hands on her hips and giving me the look I remember so well from growing up. We’re in the kitchen where she has a lot of food spread out, and I’m really hoping she didn’t start doing this because Xeno messaged her. We’re here under obligation, not for dinner. “Oh, we can call your siblings-”
“Don’t call them,” Xeno advises, sitting beside Jo. She has an orange juice sitting untouched in front of her, one Xeno keeps nudging toward my wife. He has a lot of ink across his skin like I do, but his hair is longer, hanging loose over his shoulders. We’ve stayed in touch, but I haven’t seen him in person since he was a young teen. Now he’s an adult, and it looks like he’s taken up his role in the family as expected. I never wanted to stay in a life of crime once I met Jo, and all my brother ever hoped for was a chance to take over for Papa.
Like Jo, Xeno has scars. They weren’t placed there by a serial killer, but he’s scarred all the same. His scars are limited to the side of his face, and I remember the day years ago when he video called me and casually showed off the wounds. They make him more identifiable, especially considering his lifestyle, but he doesn’t seem to let much of anything bother him. At least Jo seems comfortable with my brother, catching up after not really speaking with him since he was thirteen. She gestures to his face as they speak and he grins. There’s no hiding those scars, and maybe they’ll chat about hers. It’s a touchy subject.
Jo isn’t wearing the layers that she prefers now that we’re here. She shed the cover ups and rolled up the pants to give herself a break from the heat, and my brother was completely unsurprised by the marks. He and Lorezno were my only siblings old enough to semi know what was going on when we left Florida. She seems to hold a special place in their hearts since they routinely message for updates about her.
Mama seems to ignore the mood in the room, taking the long way around the island to pretend like I’m not standing in her way so she can keep cooking. She’s pointedly ignored Jo since we walked in, barely saying hello, and I’m ready to leave because of the slight. Mama knows my feelings for my wife aren’t going to change just because she thinks I can find someone better. “Oh, but the family can be together again for a night!”
“Papa won’t leave in the middle of a trade,” Xeno says, shooting a look in Mama’s direction. She scowls but seems to accept it, pausing beside the dough she was working on when we walked in.
“Well, Lorenzo and Viggo are just one city over,” Mama continues, placing a falsely bright smile on her face again. “And Echo is staying at the university-”
“Mama,” Xeno stresses, “this is not the time. We want to keep a low profile with a killer on the loose.”
My lip twitches up into a smirk at that, and Xeno nods in my direction but doesn’t smile back with Mama still focused on him. Jo’s got her head resting against one hand, watching the three of us interact.
“Oh, it’s only one killer,” Mama deadpans, looking between all of us. “He killed three people in what, a couple months? You kill more than that in a day, Xeno.”
“Mama,” he stresses.
“You should go and look into this killer,” she continues, ignoring the warning in his voice. Mama, oblivious to the building tension, nods to me. “Vincenzo, you find out who it is. If no one’s killing you can stay a little longer. I’m sure your wife wants to head home.”
“Don’t talk about Jo, Mama,” I tell her, my voice dropping low. “I’ve told you before, she is my choice, and even if you don’t like my decision you can respect it.”
She huffs and shakes her head, turning back to the dough. I look away and my gaze snags Xeno’s. As the second oldest in the family, he was closest to me when I was in high school. He’s also five years younger than I am, so even when I was eighteen, I still considered him just a guppy. Now he’s in his late twenties, too young to seize control from our father and too old to get away with just anything. He’s not friends with the law, and traveling between cities is a lot of work. He’s not looking to draw attention. I’ve heard from both him and Lorezno occasionally since we arrived here in the middle of the month, and their men haven’t determined a candidate for the copycat either. I know they aren’t particularly focused on the task with everything else they do for my father, but the fact that a group of highly-organized criminalsandthe FBI haven’t been able to nail down the killer unsettles me.
It’s just another reason to get the hell out of Florida. My brother’s are often in danger, but it doesn’t need to be because of me. I made my choice when I married Jo, and Papa disowned me. I have no intention of going back on the decision, but even being here in my childhood home feels like crossing a line. Papa is often too busy to come up here, so I’m not worried about crossing paths with him today. But he won’t be pleased to see that I’ve come home, and not to reclaim any titles with the family.My Papa is a bit of a loon when it comes to loyalty, and I turned on him twice. I refused the title of heir, and I left with my wife. He’s not going to be thrilled.
Lucky for me, he’s not my concern. Xeno told us in the car there’s a lot of working parts in central Florida right now and Papa won’t risk leaving his position to come up here. If we’re lucky he won’t come back before we’re out of the state.
“You could both stay here,” Mama continues, and I see Jo flinch in the background when my mother practically sneers. “We have such good security.”
“Now that my brother’s ready to admit he’s home,” Xeno goes on, “they’ll have protection whether or not they are staying here, Mama. I’ll handle it.”
I shoot Xeno a half smirk. I’m not certain if Jo’s as attuned to the cars in Citrus Grove as I am, but I recognized the dark SUVs and cars following us around near Emeric’s and around town. I haven’t noticed them on the penitentiary grounds yet, though. According to Xeno, and probably the camera recording too, they left when my brother called them back in the wee hours of the morning and missed the body drop. Either the killer watched until they were gone, or he got lucky with the body drop and missed our watchmen.
I didn’t keep my return a secret from Xeno; we spoke about Florida before returning because I needed to know if more problems awaited us thanjusta copycat serial killer.
Mama frowns, eyes lifting to my wife. Even before things happened, she didn’t like Jo. That much was clear from the first moment I brought her home. Unfortunately for my parents I’ve never particularly cared what they think of my love life considering the loveless relationship the two of them are sealed into.
Instead of waiting for her to keep talking, I cross over and sit beside Jo. My fingers brush over her cheek and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes for a moment.
We didn’t come here when we arrived in Florida for a reason. We’re already close to two weeks here, and I had hoped to be back in Colorado by now. March is two days away, and Emeric did warn me before we came down here that it would probably take a long while to get home.
Mama starts cursing under her breath, swears rolling off her tongue and mixing with Italian. I was a shit child growing up and had no interest in learning to be bilingual despite my Mama’s efforts. I largely believe it’s due to my Papa’s insistence that I would one day take over the family and knowing several languages was integral.
Xeno always wanted the position I never did. In the end, things worked out. I think he can understand what Mama is raging about better than I do, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“Let’s get some air,” Xeno says, patting Jo’s arm before standing. We follow him outside, gazing at the rows and rows of orange trees. A lot of the work is handled by machines now and farmhands that are well paid. This time of year there’s nothing to really harvest, and the fields stand pretty but empty and maintained on a schedule. That much hasn’t changed since I lived here.